


But Tell Me What You Really Think

by PipGirl



Category: Fallout: New Vegas
Genre: Fluff and Crack, M/M, drunken sexy talk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-28
Updated: 2016-11-28
Packaged: 2018-09-02 22:02:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8685088
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PipGirl/pseuds/PipGirl
Summary: Boone gets blitzed and tells Benny what he REALLY thinks of him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written in response to a fabulous prompt on the Fallout Kink Meme.

The celebration after wiping out the Legion at the Fort was epic. None of them had expected to wind up in a fire fight, had certainly not expected the courier to flip out and start killing Legionaries when Caesar demanded that she choose how Benny should die, but definitely didn't object. As yet they still didn't understand why she refused to kill her killer, but that could wait; they'd made a huge dent in the Legion's power structure, rescued the captive Chairman, and gotten away clean. Now they were coming off the adrenaline high by plowing through the ample liquor reserves at the Big Horner in Boulder City.

Boone hadn't expected to celebrate quite so much. As much as he fantasized about hunting down Legionaries, it had never really occurred to him that he might take part in actually killing Caesar. It was heady. The more he drank, though, the more the _why_ of it bothered him...they hadn't brought down Caesar because they were going after the Legion. They'd done it because the courier had suddenly decided to pardon her attempted killer. It wasn't done for the good of the Mojave. It was done for that self-interested little weasel. And he didn't deserve that. The drunker Boone got, the angrier the thought made him, until he finally wandered over to the corner where Benny sat to confront him. He wove through the courier's myriad companions, all loud, all drunk, all ignoring him, until he got to the Chairman.

Benny started to open his mouth in greeting, but Boone talked over him. "You gotta lotta nerve."

Benny just grinned. "Yeah? How's that news?"

"You think this's all about you? You're nothing."

"Never said otherwise, baby."

"Y'know what you are?" Boone asked, warming up now. He jabbed his finger in the air near Benny's chest. "You're an arrogant li'l prick and you need someone t'wipe that smug smile right off your pretty face."

Benny raised an eyebrow at the slurred outburst. "That a fact? My pretty face?"

"Mmhmm." Boone took another drink, not that he needed it, and remained blissfully unaware that he'd called Benny "pretty." "I have no idea why she let you live."

"That makes two of us, pally."

"She's naïve. She got caught up in those big, brown eyes of yours and lost her nerve."

Benny cocked his head and leaned back, truly beginning to enjoy the show. "Ya think?"

Boone nodded. "She's jus' a kid. She doesn' know what you are under the fancy suit and slicked-back hair. But you strip that suit away...." Boone drifted a little, looking down at Benny with a different sort of haze before his eyes now. What point was he trying to make? Now all he could envision were his own hands unbuttoning Benny's jacket and pulling it from his body. In this light, actually, the smaller man didn't look half bad.

He looked...pretty good, actually.

Damn. He'd lost his place in his little tirade. "Snake," he said, trying to get back on track. "You're a snake."

"No argument, bear flag boy." Benny tapped his fingers on the bar and goaded Boone on. "Now tell me more about my eyes."

"Your...eyes...." Boone swayed a little. Benny was still grinning at him, the infuriating bastard, and Boone determined to do as he'd threatened and wipe away that smile. "If I had my way, y'know what I'd do?"

"Shoot me?"

"Mmhmm. But first I'd take you down a peg or two."

"Really."

"Show you who's in charge around here."

Benny nodded across the room toward the inebriated courier. "I thought that was her."

Boone ignored him. "I'd teach you your place. Teach you better things to do with that mouth of yours than spewing smarm and lies." He stepped closer, though there hadn't been that much room between them to start. "First thing I'd do is take off that ridiculous suit." He swallowed thickly and let one hand trail down Benny's lapel, his fingers brushing over the buttons of the jacket. At this, Benny drew back a little, keeping the fingers at bay, but he let Boone keep talking. "And then I'd hold you down and...and...." His mind wandered again. He knew vaguely he'd been talking about teaching Benny a lesson of some sort, but now his imagination was filled with the image of holding down that lean, tan body, staring into those deep, dark eyes, and the lesson was lost.

"And?" Benny prompted.

"And." Boone took another drink, delaying while he tried to recapture his train of thought. Maybe there wasn't any more to it. It seemed like he should be outraged by something right now, but all his thoughts were hot, hazy ones involving the insufferable Chairman and his snarky smile. Maybe all of his drinking had just been cranking up the courage to do this. He leaned into Benny, not noticing the smaller man's barely constrained smirk. "And I'll hold you down," he continued, his voice low, his breathing rough, "and kiss every inch of your skin I can reach. I'll sink my teeth into your shoulder until you beg. I'll...." He swallowed again, trying to sort out rushing thoughts, but the alcohol made it impossible. He might as well let himself be swept along on the wave, and tell Benny exactly what was coursing through his mind, through his veins, as he leaned over him in the dim bar. He lowered his mouth to Benny's ear. "And then I'll turn you over and shove my cock up your ass. I'll pound you raw."

Benny's smirk was full blown now. "As long as you promise to cuddle after."

"And you won't be able to talk your way out of it with my cock shoved down your throat." He swayed a little, his vision fuzzy. "Maybe I better sit down...."

He wasn't sure if he made it to a chair or not. He woke the next morning spread out on the floor, his hangover excruciating. The courier and her other friends were rousing, too, and looked positively dreadful. The mood, however, was still light. Caesar was dead, so the day was good.

Benny was gone. Boone vaguely remembered seeing him the night before on a bar stool in the corner. The stool was vacant but a note sat on the bar in front of it. Boone picked it up. It was addressed to the courier. He handed it over to her and she read it aloud.

"Pussycat,

Thanks again for the rescue. I promised I'd ride off into the nearest sunset, so off I go. It was a great last night in the Mojave. You and your friends can really put the booze away.

On that note, tell Boone I'm flattered but I'm sticking with the dames. Nice of him to think of me, though.

Ciao."

The courier turned to Boone. "What does that mean?"

He scowled. "I have no idea." He had a sneaking suspicion, though, that he should be glad Benny was gone for more than the obvious reasons. He had a feeling that, had the Chairman stayed, they'd have all found out what the cryptic message meant. And Boone was pretty sure that he didn't want to know.


End file.
